Dancer in the Shadows
by Bad Luck Bree
Summary: One thing...MEG&ERIK! My first Phantom fic...
1. Prologue

Prologue

Meg splashed through the water, looking this way and that. Her eyes landed on the white object lying near the steps. She knelt, picking it up, her eyes going a darker color.

_His mask_.

Looking back, Meg could see the search party coming around the bend, some swimming, others wading, some even managing to balance along the small alcoves in the wall. And all still singing out their bloodthirsty song of death.

Meg looked back down at the mask. A slight sound caught her attention. She looked up, hearing the sound again. Someone was weeping. The noise made her heart swell with pity.

_The opera ghost._

Through the broken shards of a shattered mirror, Meg could see a hunched figure in a shadowy passage. Rising from her place, Meg clutched the mask to her body, taking a few steps forward, feeling compelled to do something.

The man had his head buried in his hands, weeping unashamedly.

_Christine!_

His heart wailed the sweet name. She didn't love him! His poor, wretched heart was breaking. After all he had done for her…after all he had said!

Suddenly, a soft voice caused him to turn round. His eyes went wide. Someone was in the tunnel with him! Bitterness and the pain of his broken heart turned his hatred to a fiery poison in his veins.

Springing forward, the Phantom wrapped his arm around the intruder's neck, applying a tight grip. He clutched at the figure's arm, pinning it down. He hissed into the intruder's ear, "I will kill you!" Christine had spoken truly. His lust for blood was expansive and frightening. A pang hit him. He was a monster! _How could anyone love me?_

He was brought back to the present as a voice choked out in the darkness, "No! I wanted…to give…this back!"

The Phantom ripped the object away, making it out in the darkness. His mask.

Releasing his captive, the Phantom choked out brokenly, "Leave…tell those fools to turn back or they will all die! They will be trapped in this opera house…and it will be their own fault!"

He turned, staying silent. But the voice spoke again, "I want to help you…"

The Phantom turned again, his tears running unchecked as he vented his frustration and heartbreak, "You can't help me! I'm dying! _Dying!_ Now go back to the wretched world you come from! My life is over without Christine!" His voice failed as he spoke her beautiful name. He slid to the floor, breaking into sobs again, "_Christine…_"

Meg bit her lip. Her heart was filled with pity and compassion, a trait she had gained from her mother. She felt a certain connection with the Opera ghost, as her mother shared a history with him. Reaching out a trembling hand, Meg laid it on the ghost's quaking shoulder.

"Erik…"

Meg heard a sharp intake of breath. She must've said the wrong thing. Withdrawing her hand, she took a step backward. But a vice-like grip caught her arm, drawing her close again. Erik hissed at her, "How did you know my name?"

Meg felt fear cloud her senses. Her mouth went dry as she tried to speak. She managed, "I…my mother…she told me!"

The grip on her arm gentled, but she was pulled closer. She felt breath on her cheek. Erik's voice came through the darkness again, a sob breaking his tone, "Meg? Oh, Meg! Is it you? I can't see you!"

A hand touched her face, and Meg couldn't help an involuntary shudder. How did the Phantom know her? The hand withdrew, and Meg plucked up her courage, "You need to get out of here. Before they find you! I'll hold them off."

Meg felt the breath on her cheek again as Erik whispered, "No…you are coming with me."

"Why?"

Erik's voice grew harsher, "You are coming with me! Don't disobey me!"

Meg felt terror grip her. Go with the Opera ghost? As his prisoner? Down to depths lower than now!

Meg began to struggle, blind panic making her lose her wits, "No, let me go!"

The grip grew stronger. A steely arm wrapped around her waist, lifting her effortlessly. A harsh whisper stung her ear, "Don't struggle. I don't want to hurt you!"

Meg threatened, sounding braver than she felt, "I'll scream!"

Erik did the only thing left to do. He pressed his free hand to Meg's neck, squeezing the pressure points in the girl's throat. She gasped, then passed out without a sound.

Erik hoisted the girl onto his shoulder, descending down lower to depths he had long wished to forget.


	2. Salvation and Captivity

Chapter I

Salvation and Captivity

Erik sat in the shadows, Meg lying on the floor beside him. Erik stared at nothing, his heart too heavy to think. He could hear Meg's measured breath beside him. He had never wished this. Madame Giry was one of the two people in the world he cared about.

But wasn't Meg a person he cared for? He didn't know her, only that she was Madame Giry's daughter. And she was a dancer. A very good one. Erik had seen her dance many times with Christine. But his eyes had always been on Christine.

Erik sighed heavily, the tears running afresh. Oh, beautiful Christine! She belonged to another…her love belonged to another.

The lonely, wretched man looked down at the mask. How he longed to burn it! How he longed to be normal! To not have this deformed face! To not be a monster!

Erik glanced down at Meg…only for a moment. He looked away, but found his eyes drawn back to the girl's face. She was beautiful. Her pale skin was visible in the darkness, and her golden hair fell across her eyes. She had long, dark lashes, and her lips were full and perfect.

Erik looked quickly away, his heart thrumming in his ears. _No! It's just…I care for her…just because she's the daughter of the woman who saved my life…_

Erik turned his back to the girl, slumping down farther. He was safe here. The search party wouldn't find him. He might as well sleep.

_And dream of Christine_.

Meg woke, her limbs stiff and her head aching. She sat up, instantly regretting it as sharp pain racked her sides and legs. An eerie glow lit the room. It was a small chamber, damp and dreary. She turned, seeing Erik curled up on the floor beside her. She drew in her breath, scooting away from him. He must have sensed or heard her movement, for he stirred, raising his head.

"You recovered quickly."

Meg rose, looking down at the Phantom, "Let me go."

Erik rose as well, shaking his half disfigured head, "No, Meg. Not until it's all over."

Meg spread her hands, "Until _what's_ all over?"

Erik ignored her question, going to the opposite corner. He leaned back against the wall and surveyed the girl.

"You're wearing boy's clothes."

Meg's face colored with indignation. The tone of his voice sounded…

"I was too busy to notice what I was putting on."

"Busy hunting me."

The look on Erik's face made Meg's blood run cold.

Erik tilted his head at the girl. He was slightly impressed. She wasn't shying away from the sight of his deformed face. He straightened, going to her. He bent down to eye level, "How old are you?"

Meg swallowed, "Sixteen."

Erik nodded slowly, then straightened.

Meg spoke this time, "How did you know who I was?"

Erik laughed slightly, "Didn't you know your mother saved my life? You obviously knew who _I _was."

Meg snapped back, "_Everyone_ knows who you are!"

Erik didn't answer, but his eyes darkened. Then he spoke again, "I've seen you before, Meg. You're a good dancer. And I had a certain obligation to make sure you did well. It was the least I could do for your mother."

Meg was surprised by the tone of affection in Erik's voice. _He must love my mother dearly_ she thought. She was right. Erik held Madame Giry as one of his dearest friends.

Meg's thoughts were interrupted as Erik spoke, "Can you sing, Meg?"

Meg shrugged, "Only a little, but not as good as Chri…"

She stopped. She saw a spasm of pain cross Erik's face. Meg's voice lowered, and she muttered, "I'm sorry…"

Erik swallowed his agony and answered, "I loved her…I still love her…"

Meg nodded, "I know…we all know…if you let me go, I'll tell her."

Erik's dark eyes swung to her, and he narrowed his gaze, "I said I would let you go after it's all done."

Meg once again questioned him, "You still haven't told me why I'm here!"

Erik answered, "I did it to save you. If I hadn't taken you here, you would have either been trapped or burned. I just pray that your mother escaped."

Meg didn't believe the man, "You lie! I'll wager you'll ransom me!"

Erik turned his melancholy gaze to the girl, "Why would I lie, Meg? My heart is broken…trampled and scorned. I have no wish to live anymore, but I want the daughter of my only friend safe."

Meg felt the indignation rise as he used her name, as if they were old acquaintances, "Are you only thinking of your pain?"

Erik slumped down again, "What else can I think about?" He looked at the girl, "I'd forgotten how feisty you were…"

Meg bristled, her spine prickling, "What do you mean? How much do you know about me?"

Erik shrugged, "Enough. I know something about everyone in this opera house. I just know more about you, that's all."

Meg turned away, snuggling down in a corner, "When I leave here, promise me you'll never look at me again."

Erik felt strangely hurt by her words. He spoke defensively, "Fine. I'm used to people avoiding my face. I didn't…didn't expect that from you…your mother…"

Meg heard the break in his voice. She felt pity fill her despite her anger. Turning back around, she said in a softer tone, "I didn't mean it like that, Erik…" She suddenly realized the tone in which she had said his name.

Erik noticed it too. So soft…so kind…

Christine hadn't said it like that. She had said it with pity in her voice. But no compassion.

Erik stood and went to the girl. He knelt on one knee, taking her hand in a comforting way, "You shouldn't be frightened of me…she…Christine was frightened…I didn't want her to be frightened."

The tears ran once more. It hurt him so much to know he had frightened his beautiful angel!

Meg swallowed the lump in her throat. She spoke in a steadied voice, "I'm not frightened of you…but I'm frightened."

Erik squeezed her hand, "Don't be…I'm with you…"

Meg turned away, wanting to believe him. But all the horror tales came back to her.

"I still don't see why I should trust you…the murders…"

Erik dropped her hand, straightening, "They were hardly murders, Meg. I rid the world of scum."

Meg jumped to the defense, "No! They were human beings!"

Erik sneered scornfully, "You are too naïve to understand, little Meg. They were worthless scum…I did the world a favor."

Meg rose, clenching her fists, "You _killed _them!"

Erik turned his back on her, but she continued speaking, "The world was cruel to you, but not everyone is like that! What if…what if you didn't try to help yourself?"

A heavy blow to her cheek silenced the girl. She staggered back, shock in her eyes. No one had ever struck her before!

Erik stood with his open palm brought back for another blow, his dark eyes raging. He snarled at the girl, "How would you know? Did your mother ever scream at you to leave because she couldn't bear to look at your face? Did people laugh at you and call you the Devil's Child? Were you ever put on display like an animal?"

Meg summoned up her courage and answered, "No, but not everyone is like that! What about my mother?"

Erik struck her again, harder this time. Meg gave a small cry, falling down. Blood trickled from her mouth as she nursed her gum with her tongue. Tears of indignation stood in her eyes. Erik turned his back on her, wishing he had left her in that tunnel. But he couldn't help but admire her courage.

Meg continued rubbing her cheek, sniffing several times and saying in a strained voice, "I'm not afraid of you."

Erik growled, turning his head to look at her, "You should be. I could kill you right now."

Meg stood, actually baring her teeth at him in her anger, "But you won't! You wouldn't hurt my mother! And you know that I'm Christine's friend!"

Erik's eyes went wide again, the pain evident in his face. He sat down hard, covering his face and giving out a shuddering sigh, "Just…just go away…go away and die!"

Meg set her teeth, saying in a softer voice, "No…because I know what you'll do. You'll kill yourself. I can see that. And I won't let you do it, because my mother cares about you. And…and I'll do it for her…not for you!"

Erik met Meg's eyes. She was serious. There was fear in her eyes, but determination as well. He moved his gaze from hers, saying in a broken voice, "You are a brave girl, Meg…but please don't do this. Don't do it. I saved your life so you could escape the cold darkness. If you stay with me, that's all you will ever know."

Meg went to Erik, putting her hand on his shoulder. He could feel the rigidness in her hand, her blood going cold at the contact, "For my mother, Erik. My mother."

Erik reached out and touched her face, almost tenderly. Then his grip hardened. He gripped her cheek, and she made a soft groan of pain. Erik growled up at her, "You will wish you were dead by the time I've showed you what you've done!"


	3. The Ghost and the Bat

Chapter II

The Ghost and the Bat

Meg stumbled through the darkness, exhaustion making her dizzy. Lack of food and water caused her limbs to tremble weakly. Erik was cruelly driving her on, reveling in her torment. She could hardly blame him. Hadn't she hurt him with her words?

Erik's keen eyes watched as Meg tripped, falling heavily. She stayed where she fell, too tired to rise. Erik grabbed her by the back of the neck, hauling her upright. He pushed her onwards, snarling to her, "You made this choice yourself! Don't back out now, little girl!"

Meg's eyes stung with tears of indignation. She thought she had been doing the right thing when she asked to stay with him. Now it seemed she had made a terrible mistake. Pushing onward, she held her hands out before her to avoid bumping into the tight walls. She felt like a blind rat scurrying through a gutter. Gutter was an appropriate word to describe her surroundings.

Erik heard Meg's breath coming out in gasps. She was crying softly. He grinned cruelly, forcing himself to enjoy this, "What's the matter, Meg? Afraid of the dark?"

A growl came from Meg. She swung around, striking out at Erik. The man caught her fist, twisting it back at a sharp angle. Meg gasped in pain. Erik brought his face close to hers, hissing at her, "You chose to come with me. Now move! Down, down, down!"

Insane laughter came from Erik. Meg shuddered. Now she _knew_ she had made a horrible mistake. Erik was going mad with heartbreak. Pity filled her, but she squashed it as she was pushed onward. She forced out her words, trying to regain her breath, "I was trying to help you! Is this how you thank me?"

Erik clutched her arm tightly, his nails sinking into her skin, "I told you to leave! I saved your life! You told me yourself you were doing this for your mother, not me! I could see the look in your eyes!"

Meg gritted her teeth as her arm was squeezed, "I'm trying to save _your_ life!"

Erik whirled her around, grabbing her by the shoulders and snarling into her face, "You're frightened of me, aren't you?"

Meg felt the tears flowing afresh. She spoke in a voice choked by hot tears…tears of fear, "Yes…yes, I am."

Erik felt his embittered heart tighten with cruel satisfaction. This girl…this impudent, stupid girl, deserved to be afraid. He would have killed her with his bare hands if she hadn't been Madame Giry's daughter. But the admiration began pushing its way through again. Swallowing it deep, Erik spoke again in a lower voice, still laden with contempt, "So…where's your bravery now?"

Erik saw the girl's eyes in the darkness. They hardened, flaming with anger, "I'm facing you…I'm frightened, but I'm facing my fear. And I have a right to be afraid." Then she said the right and wrong thing, "Christine is afraid of you!"

Erik roared in rage, striking the girl hard. Meg didn't cry out, her anger giving her strength. She faced him again, narrowing her eyes, "That is your own fault."

Erik let go of Meg, stepped back. He hissed at her, "I hate you…you…you little gutter mouse!"

Meg retorted angrily, "I'm not the one living underground, hiding from the world! You're the one who is afraid!"

Erik grabbed her around the throat, his face fractions from hers. He motioned to the mask, which he had replaced, roaring, "You would too, if you were born a monster! They laughed at me, they treated me like an animal! Do you hear me? _An animal!_" He ripped the mask from his face, revealing the deformed side.

But Meg didn't react. She stared right at him. She spoke in a level voice, "Maybe you did nothing to help yourself."

Erik tightened his grip around Meg's neck, baring his teeth at her, hatred flaming in his eyes, "You wouldn't have done differently…you are _nothing _like your mother!" He let go of her, leaning back against the wall, "I thought you were…I had seen you before. You seemed…different." Then his eyes bored into her again, "You didn't think I was real, did you? I heard you tell her!" He was referring to Christine.

Meg swallowed, "Yes…I _knew_ you were real. It was just…she said Angel of Music…I didn't…"

Erik gripped at the wall, his heart flamed with pain. Angel of Music…

_I am your Angel of Music…come to the Angel of Music…_

Erik felt tears trickling down his cheeks. _Why?_ Why didn't Christine see how he loved her more than that other man?

But did he?

_What if she's better off with him?_

_What's left for me?_

Without realizing it, Erik spoke to Meg, his pain evident in his voice, "Do you think I was meant to fall in love with Christine?"

Meg was taken aback. And she was afraid to answer. But she did anyway, "Yes…I think you were. Nothing happens by chance."

Erik pressed a fist to his forehead, agonizing over this, "Why? I love her! I'm going to die, Meg! I can't live knowing she isn't mine!"

Meg dared to ask him, "Did you really know her?"

Erik looked up at Meg, anger in his eyes, "Yes…I was her teacher…I watched her every day! I shared music with her! Shared my voice with her! I _gave_ my voice to her! _I gave her my heart!_" His voice broke.

Meg waited, and heard a few sobbed words, "I was…her Angel."

Meg waited for the phantom to look up again. She then spoke, "But…did she ever ask for all this?"

Erik's mouth went dry. No…no, she hadn't. He had never struck a deal with her.

"You frightened her…very badly," Meg said, her voice growing harsher. Anger and frustration was making her insensitive, "Maybe if you hadn't been so…so sinister!"

Erik realized reluctantly that she was right. He _had _frightened Christine. He remembered her tears. Her sweet, sweet tears. And how she had faced that fear…_for another man_.

And the kiss they had shared…_oh, that kiss!_ To feel her soft lips on his own…to feel his heart and soul sucked forth by that one kiss…but there was no passion on her part. No love. She was doing it all for another. Another man that she actually loved.

And Erik now knew that Meg was needed. He was going to die if he was left alone. He wanted to see Meg's mother…but Meg was the substitute.

"Meg…help me…she was my Angel of Music…I can't…"

Meg had no patience for his tears. Hardening her heart, she hauled him upright, "I don't care. I'm going to make you see reason and then leave this dark hole."

Erik was surprised at Meg's strength. But he snarled back through his tears, "Christine is my angel…you are a little devil!"

Meg retorted, heated with her rage, "You shouldn't say that! You were called the Devil's Child!"

This time, Erik struck Meg so hard that she was thrown back against the wall, her head hitting the stone. Stars burst in her vision, but she could vaguely hear Erik screaming at her, "_Never call me that again! Never!"_

She felt his hands grip her neck, hard. His fingers pressed bruises on her pale cheeks. Tears sprang to Meg's eyes, pain making her go dizzy. She screamed out, "Erik, stop, you're going to kill me!"

Erik felt his insides writhing with rage. He _wanted_ to kill her! But he released her, stepping back. His eyes blazed as he watched her struggle up.

"Why do you even call me by my name?"

Meg looked at him, her eyes narrowing, "Why do you call me by _my_ name?"

She felt her wrist gripped. Erik brought his disfigured face close to hers, hissing at her, "You're right…my little _bat_"

Stung by this, Meg lowered her eyes, resolving to stay silent. She cursed herself. She had been egging him on ever since he had taken her.

_I won't call him Erik anymore. I'll call him Ghost._

And so the Ghost and the Bat sat in darkness, their hatred so thick in the air that the sharpest blade could not sever it.


	4. The Interior of a Mind

Chapter III

The Interior of a Mind

"Lost our way, have we?"

Meg cried out in surprise and fear as Erik suddenly appeared before her, only his white half-mask visible with the staring eye socket. His eyes were hard with contempt as he gripped her arm again, whirling her in the opposite direction.

"Headed back for the rest of your vicious little friends, aren't you? Can't have that."

Meg bit back tears, "I wasn't…I just can't see anything…"

Erik snarled at her, "I don't care about your excuses! Just keep moving forward. We're almost there."

_Finally!_ Meg wasn't sure whether to feel relieved or anxious. She was exhausted from moving and wanted to rest, but she was afraid of what the Ghost would do to her there.

After another quarter hour of stumbling through the dark tunnel, Meg was flung down onto the cold floor. She lay as she fell, exhausted and wanting nothing more than sleep. She curled up, resting her head on her arms.

Erik made his way through the dark and struck a match, finding a proper lantern. He lit it, picking it up and turning. He made his way back to the girl, only to find her in a sort of half doze, half faint. He looked down at her with contempt. Her dirty face and tattered boy's clothes…she resembled a sorry specimen.

Kicking her roughly, Erik barked out, "Asleep, are we? Not yet, little Bat. On your feet!"

Meg blinked back tears of distress and weariness, pulling herself weakly up. She was so hungry and so tired! And the light hurt her eyes after so long in the dark.

"Please let me go, I promise I won't tell anyone what I've seen!"

Erik growled in his throat, pushing her roughly against the wall, "No. Now stop your sniveling."

Meg lowered her head, only giving a whimper of submission. She wasn't going to argue anymore, and she wasn't going to fight. He could do what he liked. She was too tired and too frightened.

Erik gripped Meg's waist, wrenching her around and pushing her forward once more. After about five minutes of more walking, they came into a larger opening.

Despite her weariness, Meg felt her eyes widen in amazement. As they passed into the larger room, candles seemed to light on their own, lighting the way. There were a few doors on the walls, probably to smaller rooms. Erik really _had_ turned this underground place into a maze, but had still managed to build all of this, as if he had been prepared for such an incident.

Erik glanced down at Meg, amused by her wonder. He then pushed her towards one of the doors, opening it and thrusting her inside.

Meg landed hard, only to find a type of carpeting under her. It was a rug of fur or some other shaggy material. She turned on her back, looking up at the Ghost's form framed in the faint candlelight, looking very much like a flickering wraith of inky blackness, only the mask showing like a severed skull.

Erik spoke in a curt command, "Get some sleep. But don't try anything. I have ways of paying for tricks that you won't like." He then closed the door with a sharp flick of his wrist, resulting in a sharp click on the latch. He had locked the door.

Meg found herself in darkness once again. She curled up, wondering how long she would be in here.

But she was surprised to see a light growing in the corner. A set of candles was seemingly rising from the floor. She looked up, eyes wide. What sort of magic was this?

_He must be a sorcerer or something…surely this isn't possible…_

Meg, after letting her eyes adjust, looked about the small room. To her surprise, it was comfortably furnished, though still somewhat Spartan. A small pallet with a few cushions was in the corner, and a table was opposite it, along with two chairs. Meg now saw that the floor was covered in a type of rug, as she had suspected, but she couldn't guess the material. The room was warmer than one would expect, though Meg still felt a chill coming over her.

Going to the pallet in the corner, Meg sank down into the cushions, exhausted and mentally spent. Maybe…just maybe…she could sleep and then wake to find this whole sorry incident had been a dream…that the Phantom had never existed…that Christine had never been so tortured, so lost…that these stories were…just stories.

When Meg woke, she wasn't sure if it was morning or if it was still night. No way to tell in this pit.

Rising from the pallet, Meg went to the door, trying the handle. To her surprise, it was open. The Ghost must have unlocked it. He was probably sitting outside it, just waiting.

Opening the door cautiously, Meg peeked around the frame. She saw no sign of the Ghost.

Meg closed the door behind her as quietly as possible, turning and looking around. It was cold, and it looked cold, even with all the candles burning. The very flames looked frigid.

_Why does he insist on keeping me here?_

"The little bat is up now?"

Meg whirled around to see the Ghost walking towards her, his arms full of what looked like packages of something. He stopped just short of her and handed one of the objects to her. Meg looked down at it, then back up at the Ghost.

"Food," he said.

Meg began tearing at the package, finding a loaf of bread inside. Good, fresh bread. Where had he gotten this?

Meg sank her teeth into the bread, eating it ravenously. She was starved. She looked up at the Ghost, her mouth full of food, and nodded once in appreciation.

Erik turned away from her, slightly disgusted with her. She resembled a desperate animal right now, her hair in disarray over her shoulders, her eyes large and confused…and now forcing down her food as if she was going through a ten season famine.

Meg finished her food, brushing crumbs from her shirt into her hand and licking them up from her palm. She then looked up at the Ghost, demanding, "Where did you get that?"

Erik glared at her, "It doesn't matter where I got it. Just be glad I'm feeding you."

Meg glared back at him, "You stole it!"

Erik rolled his eyes, and Meg could see the slight glint in the socket of his mask. "My dear little Bat…I do not live by the rules of mankind. They've exiled me…why should I follow the rules they made?"

Meg looked away, knowing that rebellion only made things worse for her. But she had to speak, "You are still part of mankind, Ghost." She saw him flinch slightly at her words, "But you are severing all bonds by this behavior!"

The Ghost turned fully to her, his mouth turned down in a frown, "Humanity severed those bonds long ago. My own mother struck the first blow."

Meg shook her head, "You were unfortunate…and I once pitied you. But how can you expect people to act in response to that pity if you act like a monster?"

The Ghost shook his head, "I _am_ a monster, Bat. Even your dear little friends, the Viscount and…" he swallowed, as if the next name were a sweet taste he wouldn't allow himself, "Christine…thought so. But Christine…she's the only one who has ever shown pity to me."

Meg narrowed her eyes, "Have you forgotten my mother?"

The Ghost shut his eyes, turning from her, "No…no, I haven't…I'll never forget your mother. But Christine…she should have loved me."

"But she doesn't, and there's nothing you can do about it," Meg said, her voice icy. She looked down, then back up at the Ghost's face.

Erik was looking at her again, his eyes hard and his voice sounding like the straining of thin ice, "You are a cruel creature, Bat. You call me a murderer…but I think you are more of a murderer with that tongue of yours."

"At least my tongue cuts those who deserve it," she shot back, instantly regretting it. She took an instinctive step back, but her action brought a thin laugh from Erik.

"You don't think those I killed deserved to die?"

"Josef didn't!"

The Ghost spat at her, "He deserved to! You didn't hear the stories he told?"

Meg looked down, "I thought you wanted people to think of you as a ghost…so you could make fear grow in their hearts."

He looked down, unable to find a retort to this.

"You are human, Ghost…whether you want to be or not."

He looked up again, eyes narrowing, "You speak out too much for a girl your age."

Meg averted her eyes. The Ghost had brought out a courage she didn't even know she had. Her immediate response to his unjust treatment and cruel ways was one that didn't allow meditative thought. She acted out of an impulse entirely new to her.

"I speak out for what I know to be right."

The Ghost gave a derisive snort of mangled laughter, "Right? By the world's standards, of course?"

"No…by my mind's standards."

"Not your heart?"

The Bat shook her head, "Your heart can mislead you. You should know."

The Ghost winced visibly, his eyes shutting tightly.

Meg blinked once, feeling slightly remorseful. Why? Hadn't she grown hard and insensitive?

_I suppose I still pity him…didn't he really love Christine?_

Christine had spoken of him, before she had ever seen him, that is, as if he was a wonderful being. Her Angel of Music, wasn't it?

_Why did she turn from him? If she hadn't loved Raoul…would she have gone with him?_

"I'm sorry…"

The Ghost looked to her, eyes narrowed. "Don't expect me to turn to your ways, Bat. I know what you're trying to do." He spread his arms out, as if gesturing in reference to the world, "I will never convert to your ways."

Meg turned, shaking her head, "No…I didn't think you would." She looked up, not directly at him, "I wish you would…"

"Why? Don't you hate me?"

Meg met his eyes this time, "No…no, I don't."

Erik seemed taken aback. Meg didn't turn away now, speaking slowly, "I pity you."

The Ghost turned away suddenly, "I don't want or need your pity."

"I know…but you have it nonetheless."

Erik didn't look to her, but felt a weight seem to press the inside of his chest. Why did her words seem to drain him in every way? He had never thought her to be so bold. He had viewed her as a timid young thing…and here she was, unafraid – no…she said she was afraid…but that was what made her actions so admirable! She was facing what she feared.

"You aren't like this, are you?"

Meg knew he meant the audacity of her spirit. She lowered her eyes.

"I've heard it said that war brings out the best in a man. Perhaps it's true for women, too…"

The Ghost turned, one eye fixing her with a sideways glance, "You are no woman. You're a slip of a girl. I wonder why I even bother with you."

Meg swallowed hard, a bitter taste poisoning the surface of her tongue, "I wonder that as well."

"Because this opera house turned into an inferno last night. You have your friends to thank for that."

"You let loose the chandelier!"

Erik turned, fixing her with an icy stare, "I was compelled to-"

Meg cut him off, "Compelled, nothing! What you did was wrong, and you know it! You may love Christine, but you can't use that as an excuse for everything!"

Erik knew she was right, but these words enraged him. She spoke of his love for Christine as if it were a terrible perversion. But it wasn't!

As if sensing his thoughts, Meg spoke in a softer voice, "I know you love her…and I…I'm sorry. But…it's over. She loves someone else. You can't change that."

Erik bowed his head, gritting his teeth as his heart underwent a painful spasm.

"You don't know the pangs of love, Bat. You can't know how horrible this pain is…you just can't."

Meg looked at him, seeing him remove his mask in the dim light to rub at bitter tears. A wave of sudden compassion, seemingly uncharacteristic after all her harsh words, washed over her. She stepped forward, placing a hand on her arm, "I'm sorry, Erik…"

She realized too late that she had used his name once more. The Ghost turned to her, replacing his mask. His eyes, or what she could see of them, were sad, but soft.

"My time in this story is over, Meg…I hope to simply fade from it…"


	5. Delving Deep

Chapter IV

Delving Deep

Meg wasn't sure how long they had been in the strange hall of chambers. Perhaps a day…perhaps two days…maybe more, she couldn't tell. No way to tell time down here…no sun to tell her if it was day or night.

Just the ceaseless sound of that infernal ring.

Erik would sit for hours on a small ivory stool in a corner, tapping a small diamond ring against a metal cup he had taken to carrying. Meg was never sure what the cup was…or why he had it. But the reverberation of ring on cup, echoing in the merciless vaults of the strange cavern, drove her to the brink of insanity.

She didn't attempt to stop him. His words to her had been of one who had lost all hope. But the remorseless echoing…it drove her mad. She didn't dare confront him. He could become violent, and she knew that in such a state he could kill. She had lost her fear of him…or at least convinced herself that she had, but she wasn't eager to die.

Meg was standing by one of the candelabras along the rough stone hall that led from the narrower tunnel to the larger cavern. She was stretching her limbs, passing the time by doing some of the old dances she had learned…just something to keep in shape and keep her mind off of things. She thought that Erik was too mesmerized by his own thoughts to really notice what she was doing.

"You move very gracefully."

Startled out of her counting and concentration, she paused in mid-movement. A pirouette was left unfinished as she turned, her eyes finding the vague outline of Erik as he stood nearby. She hadn't heard him approaching.

Slanting her eyes downward in embarrassment, she spoke sheepishly, "My…my mother thinks I dance like a lame duck." She smiled slightly at the memory of her mother. She missed her…and she hoped she was safe.

"That's an unfair statement."

"Well, it's unfair to the duck," Meg said, laughing feebly. She was startled to hear Erik's laugh joining her. His laugh was strained, weak. And she could see his half face, a confused expression on it, as if he was unfamiliar with this sound himself. It trailed off, along with Meg's, the feeble echoes bouncing off the walls.

Meg now looked down awkwardly. She supposed it was humorous to think that she had just shared laughter with the opera ghost. But it seemed she had been interacting with him more than she ever thought she would. Had her mother ever really spoken with Erik? Or had she simply assisted him and then left him to his own devices?

"How well did…do you know my mother?"

Erik slanted his gaze down to her, pausing before answering her, "You doubt the bond we share?" Without waiting for her answer, he continued, "I owe her my life. She cared for me for many months as I learned to fend for myself in this cavern. We talked often, as well. I told her some of the secrets of this place, and she promised never to reveal them."

His eyes found hers, "Did she break any of those promises?"

Meg shook her head, "No…I stumbled on that alcove by pure accident, I assure you."

He tilted his head to the side, hiding his half face from her, wondering if it would be proper to respond that he wasn't sure if he was glad of that fact. In the awkward silence that followed, the tapping of the ring on the cup began again.

Meg looked down, "What is that?"

Erik looked down as well, "What? Oh…just…just a cup. Nothing, really."

"Oh…" Meg didn't press the matter, fearing that his neutral mood might turn for the worse should she continue to push the question.

"Curious girl…" his voice almost sounded playful, but it was only a trick of the echoing vaulting ceilings. He reached out, softly touching Meg's chin so as to angle her face up to meet his. He paused, as if assessing her.

"You resemble your mother quite a lot," he commented, nodding as if in approval.

"Thank you," Meg replied, genuinely flattered. She inwardly hoped that Erik also referred to her inner qualities.

Erik's eyes traced her face again, and he opened his mouth as if to say something else, but nothing ever came of it. He dropped his gaze to the floor, showing a flash of uncertainty. Then the invisible mask was on again.

Meg sensed this break in the wall, but did not attempt to breach any more. She didn't really want to…did she? She was simply here to see that he did nothing to harm himself…only for her mother's sake, she reminded herself.

Turning away from him, Meg stretched her arms, feeling the awkwardness of the silence pressing in on her like a hot wave of stagnant air. Erik, finding himself unsure of what to do or say, turned slowly, almost hesitantly, and walked back to his self-appointed post. He didn't dare look back at Meg. It seemed…improper.

Meg continued with her exercises, now feeling the tension thick in the air. Why had it increased despite the decrease of hostility?

_Because he knows I can see him clearly now…and he sees me._

Hours had passed since their last interaction, and Meg, bored and overflowing with pent up energy, sat alone in a corner, looking up into the darkness of the ceiling. Still that ringing noise. She wanted it to stop, but he seemed obsessed with the sound of it. She had torn a corner off of her shirt, stuffing her ears with the material, but the high ringing, like a diabolical giggle, seemed to be inside her head, trapped within her ears.

Then, the ringing stopped. But the last strike of the metal did not reverberate as it should have. It was cut short. Curious and strangely concerned, Meg stood and crept closer to the place Erik occupied. She could make out his form, but vaguely, only his shadow against the blackness of the wall behind him. He was bent over, as if concentrating on something. Then she heard the unmistakable sound of a cork being popped from a bottle mouth.

It had been hours since she had had anything to drink, and Meg's mouth suddenly grew unbearably dry at the thought of something to wet her lips. Perhaps if she asked nicely…he would let her have a drink? She began to move forward again, but stopped when he turned his head, almost furtively, to the corner she had previously occupied. His eyes narrowed when he noted her absence. On a sudden instinct, Meg ducked into the shadows, and watched as Erik scanned the chamber. Meg gave out a sigh much like a shifting sleeper. This seemed to satisfy Erik, and he bent back to his task.

Now the sound of a liquid pouring into the cup set Meg's mouth working earnestly to moisten itself, longing for a single drop of something. She again crept forward.

But as she neared him, she saw him raise the cup into the air, holding the ring in his other hand. He seemed to be raising the drink like an offering, as if he expected some pagan god to bless whatever wine it held.

Then a whisper, pained and low as a summer breeze laden with the staleness of stagnant summer pools.

"Farewell, Angel…know that it is for you."

Meg, acting before the realization had even sunk all the way in, ran forward, giving a cry that echoed through the room terribly as she leaped towards Erik's arm, using her fists to bat the cup away from him. A cry of surprised rage from Erik. Meg felt his iron arm grab her about the waist before she had a chance to get away from him. He wrenched her about to face him, his half-face a mask of bitter disappointment mixed with dreadful fury. He struck her once, twice, then, his hand gripping her little throat, brought her feet off the ground, dangling her uncomfortably in the air as he roared at her, "_You stupid girl!_ Do you think you can stop me? Do you think you can _save_ me? From _this_?" He withdrew his mask again.

Meg was fighting for breath, but she managed to swing out with her leg and catch Erik on the chest. He released her, and she fell heavily onto her back. Something gave way in her arm, but she struggled up nonetheless, unexplained tears on her cheeks as she cried out, "I won't let you do it! It's wicked, it's wrong!"

"A fitting end to a wretch such as I!" His despair was heart-wrenching, his utter hopelessness discouraging to Meg.

"No, no, no no _no_!" Meg saw him reaching for the bottle that contained the foul drink. She moved forward, seizing his arm with a strength that surprised him. Then, with a movement that belied her small size, she rammed her shoulder into his chest, driving him back a full two steps. Shocked at this display of fierceness, Erik did not move to strike again. He simply glared at Meg balefully.

"You hope to aid me. If you want to do that, let me die! There is nothing for me now."

"There is always something!" Meg retorted passionately, attempting to hide the pain that was burning in her shoulder and side.

"Yes, for those of you fortunate enough to live as a human. Shall I continue as the creature I am?"

"The creature you've _become!"_

"_I was born this way!"_

"_You were born a man!" Meg's voice broke with her sobs, but she recovered and continued shakily, arms spread, her hair loose about her shoulders from the struggle. Absurdly, Erik saw her as some sort of mad sibyl or Dise, sans the bloodied arms, observing the wildness in her face with a sudden concern and fear. Desperation was evident in her demeanor and her voice, "You were born as all are! What has life done to you? You are your own bane! Your own persecutor! Oh, Erik, don't dishonor Christine by laying the responsibility of your death at her feet!"_

_He paused, trembling with a sort of weakened shudder. He sank to a kneeling position, pressing the back of his hand to his eyes. Meg could see that he was attempting to hide his sudden tears. Pity mixed with the adrenaline from the moment caused her to step forward boldly, taking his face in her hands and kneeling down before him. He looked up at her momentarily, then bent his head again, his sobs choking out despite his attempt to control them. But Meg encircled his neck with her trembling arms, attempting to comfort him. To her and Erik's surprise, it seemed to work somewhat, as Erik laid his head on her breast, letting his weeping come freely._

_Meg almost found it humorous (if it hadn't been for the horror of it all) that she, the small, overlooked ballerina from backstage was here, rocking back and forth, cradling the head of the terrible and feared Opera Ghost as if she were a mother consoling a wayward child. _

"_Erik…I'm trying to help you…let me help you, if not for your own sake, then for my mother's."_

_He gave a shuddering sigh against her shoulder, and she felt her entire body consumed with fiery pain and he grasped her injured arm with a grip of desperate grief._

_Then he raised his face to her, his eyes hard, "I have learned to be selfless…let me be selfish just once."_

_Meg felt the tears coming again, shaking her head, "No…no, I won't. Nothing in this world will make me leave you like this. Nothing."_

_Startled somewhat by her sudden devotion to her cause, Erik relented, in a way honoring the bravery he was growing to admire, however grudgingly. He rose shakily to his feet, looking down at the girl, still bent on the ground. She looked like a little child, tears streaking her bruised face. But the fire of purpose in her face made her look startlingly beautiful. _

_He knelt slightly, taking hold of her shoulders and pulling her to her feet. He paused before speaking, his voice slightly hoarse with something hidden, be it hatred or an unknown gratitude, "Then I will not stop you. Do as you will."_


End file.
